


I Don't Want Nothing From You (But To Sweetly Hold Your Hand)

by SouldierToTheEnd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bottom Tony Stark, Clint is not helpful, Drunken Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Hands, Hydra (Marvel), Insecure Tony, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, SteveTonyFest, Tony Feels, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouldierToTheEnd/pseuds/SouldierToTheEnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when Tony and he were still antagonistic towards each other, Steve noticed and appreciated the beauty of Tony’s hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want Nothing From You (But To Sweetly Hold Your Hand)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [I Don't Want Nothing From You (But To Sweetly Hold Your Hand) 手](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943287) by [asadeseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asadeseki/pseuds/asadeseki)



> This is a SteveTony Fest gift for [theseniorcitizen](http://theseniorcitizen.tumblr.com/), who wanted a story focused on hands. I don't know if this was what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! This takes place before Avengers: Age of Ultron.
> 
> Originally this was more centered on Steve, but Angsty!Tony made an appearance, as per usual.

Steve was aware that he was staring. Truth be told, he was always staring when he was down in the workshop, but Tony was so engrossed in his suit repairs that he never noticed. Right now, in the middle of the room, blue light was forming a visual of the suit and Tony was rotating the display with his hands, almost reverently. But Steve’s attention was not on the marvel of modern technology.

Something bumped against Steve’s knee and he reluctantly looked away. “Thanks, Dummy,” he said, taking the glass of green liquid from the bot’s metal hand. Dummy beeped happily before returning to his creator’s side.

“You don’t have to acknowledge him, you know. If you’d ignore him, he’d eventually go away,” Tony piqued up, attention still focused on the holograph of his suit.

“But that’s mean.” Steve took a quick whiff of the drink before settling it down farther away than before. “He’s just trying to be helpful.”

“He’s a menace.”

Dummy let out a soft, disappointed beep and Steve tried to smile encouragingly at him. He returned to his drawing, a rough sketch of Tony playing with the blue light, his long fingers twisting like a magician’s. In fact, if one would look into his sketchbook, starting at the beginning, they would see the natural progression of Steve acclimatizing to the future. First were the sketches of the Howling Commandos and Peggy, beautiful Peggy, before the subjects turned into the Avengers, lounging in the common room, at a dining room table for family dinners, their bodies in action during sparring.

When Steve started hanging out in the workshop, the drawings’ subject changed again. To the Iron Man suit, to the bots beeping around the place, and at last to Tony. Tony while concentrating, Tony while soldering metal, Tony while making schematics. Tony’s eyes, his lips, his hair, his biceps, his hands. Steve was a complete goner.

Steve added some lines of details to the background before noticing the time on his watch. “Have to go, Tony. I promised Nat a sparring session today.”

“Ew. Have fun, I guess, how is that fun again?”

Steve laughed. “See you. And you should get some actual sleep soon.”

Tony grunted and shook his head as Steve left the workshop.

Sparring was a welcome distraction from his current dilemma. And he did not doubt for one second that Nat could see something consuming him. Nat was scary like that; she probably knew about Steve’s problem before he realized it himself. Fifteen minutes later he found himself on his back with the famous Black Widow hovering over him, glaring at him. “Not your best,” she said and then gave him a meaningful look. Of course, Nat, message received. She got off him and let him stand to his feet.

She strode over to her water bottle and towel, drying off the sweat on her forehead. “If you’re not going to give me a challenge, then there’s no point to this.”

“Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Just talk to him. Then get back to me when it’s all sorted out.”

So much for distractions.

He headed back to his floor for a shower, even though he was not sparring long enough to work up sweat. And while his showers were short and quick, he lingered. As Nat would say, he was compromised, even when Tony wasn’t in the room. And it all started with his hands.

Steve can appreciate the aesthetic of all sorts of things; he used to be in art school after all. Even when Tony and he were still antagonistic towards each other, Steve noticed and appreciated the beauty of Tony’s hands. The slender fingers and the callused palms, how they moved gracefully, whether he was working on his inventions or gesturing excessively when he ranted, moving as though they were dancing in the air. It caused Steve to notice everyone else’s hands, their shapes and their movements. It made him stare at his own, noting the wide palms and the visible veins wrapped around his knuckles. He compared them all to Tony’s and found Tony’s hands to be the most beautiful. They were like a pianist’s hands.

And he’d imagine taking those hands, holding them in his own, kissing the hardened tips of the fingers. He’d imagine those hands undressing Steve eagerly, sliding down his abdomen, unzipping his pants and pulling out his hard cock. Stroking him, as Tony would lean in and whisper in his ear about how much he wanted him.

Steve’s own hand was wrapping around his very interested prick and after only a few short strokes he was spilling over his fist. Steve sighed and leaned his forehead against the steamed glass door.

He would do it tomorrow. He’d been thinking about it for a while now. He knew Tony was bisexual; the man wasn’t exactly subtle in showing his admiration in the male form. He knew Tony consider him a close friend; why else would he let him in the workshop to just sit and talk and sketch? Tony would be nervous, but it would be okay, because Steve would also be nervous, and they’d work it out together. It’d be worth it.

With a decisive nod, he got out of his shower and continued on with his day.

 

* * *

 

The call came in at 11 in the morning and the Avengers assembled. They were briefed on the situation at SHIELD quickly before boarding the quinjet and headed to Illinois of all places.

“You’d never think Illinois would be the base of such a nefarious plot,” quipped Clint as the quinjet ascended over New York.

“Next thing you know Iowa will be mass-producing asshole archers. Who would have thought?” Tony said. Clint glared at him.

“Quiet,” Steve snapped and the two complied. The team probably thought he was on edge over the mission. And he was but not as much as they figured. This wasn’t the first time the team infiltrated a HYDRA base. Besides, just before the call, he was readying Tony’s breakfast, planning on making the resident genius eat before confessing. He had the ensuing conversation all planned out too. Tomorrow, he thought miserably.

The one-story base was hidden in a rural part of the state, its location cloaked and invisible to radar and plain eyes.

Tony whistled. “These guys got some major funding,” he said as JARVIS effortlessly shut down the building’s stealth protocols. “Most of the heat signatures are below ground. Typical.”

“All right, Avengers. Move out,” Steve commanded and the team descended upon the base.

The mission was much the last two times they’ve dealt with HYDRA. Get in, destroy their weapons stockpile, retrieve any information from their computers, and eliminate the base. They stormed the first floor to find two dozen HYDRA agents waiting for them, alert from the moment the stealth protocols were shut down.

Iron Man zoomed past the agents, too fast for them to do much but try and fail to shoot him, and flew down the emergency stairwell.

“Aaaand… I’m in,” Tony said cheerfully.

“Be careful down there, Iron Man. We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Steve said as he knocked two agents out with one carefully aimed kick. Admittedly, this was a great way to deal with his sexual frustration.

“Since when am I not careful, Cap?”

They would have been done with these HYDRA thugs by now but more kept appearing from the elevators and stairwell, and several tanks had suddenly appeared right outside the blown-open entrance. And now Hulk was getting anxious from Iron Man being out of his sight for too long.

Since the whole Chitauri business, Hulk had become incredibly protective of both Iron Man and Tony. If they’re in a mission and Hulk cannot see Iron Man at any given moment, his anxiety builds and the Hulk loses focus of the enemy. Right now Hulk had stopped in the middle of battle and his wild green eyes met Steve’s steady blues.

“Hulk, focus on the tanks first.”

Hulk glanced at the stairwell and his frown deepened. “Metal Man might have trouble.” He ran to the stairwell and jumped straight down, disappearing. A loud thud followed.

Steve sighed and said, “Thor, can you take care of the tanks?”

“Verily.”

Thor leaped towards the tanks, lifting Mjolnir and striking it down on the nearest tank, while lightning rained down. The tank was out of commission and the others soon followed.

Once most of the agents were handled, Steve nodded at Natasha. “Widow, take care of things here? I’m going to check on Iron Man and Hulk.”

“Got it.”

Steve ran down the stairwell, taking two or three steps at a time. He reached the last floor to see Tony out of his suit and messing with the computers while Hulk checked the perimeter.

“What did you find?”

Tony glanced at him momentarily. “Nothing on your long lost Lenore, but check out their supplies.”

Steve peered into one metal crate. “Stark tech?”

“Somehow they got some of my old weapons. I thought I’d destroyed them all but—” His whole frame was stiff and his eyes were refusing to look directly at him. Steve placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

“I’ll check out the rest of their supplies. You almost done?”

“Nearly.”

Steve nodded and moved to the other end of the room where most crates were situated. They worked in silence and Steve felt almost relieved. Maybe he won’t wait until tomorrow to tell Tony. Maybe he’ll do it right after debriefing and it’d be better that way, really, and—

He heard the Hulk’s roar and he twisted around in time to see a lone HYDRA agent pointing a gun right at Tony and the Iron Man suit was too far, goddammit—

Hulk leapt forward and pushed Tony away from the gun before pouncing on the agent. The agent had no time to react and was defeated with no bullet discharged.

Tony flew across the room towards a wall with his hands outstretched as if to stop the momentum. A sickening crack followed and he fell to the ground, unmoving.

“Tony!” Steve vaulted over a table and crouched down by the fallen figure.

Tony blinked up at him. “…ow.” His hands were still outstretched but were angled in a way that looked unnatural. Steve grabbed them and Tony hissed. “Doubly ‘ow.’”

“Anywhere else injured?”

“I’m fine, I just fell.”

Steve pressed at one palm and Tony winced. “That doesn’t look fine.” Into the comm, he said, “Widow, bring the quinjet closer. Iron Man is injured.”

“I’m fine! It’s just a bit strained, is all.”

Hulk was hovering close by. With the HYDRA agent dealt with, Big Green was standing there deflated with eyes downcast.

“Hulk, you did good by protecting Tony,” Steve said. “But maybe next time don’t push him so hard? He is delicate.” Tony scoffed.

“Hulk sorry.”

“We know, Hulk. You were just trying to help. And now, why don’t you let Dr. Banner out so he could help?”

Hulk grunted and a minute later stood Bruce, blinking at them blearily. “What happened?” he said, straightening up when he saw Tony.

“Hulk pushed him out of the way of a gun, but pushed a little too hard.”

Bruce winced but sat down beside them, grabbing hold of Tony’s left hand. Tony hissed again. “Definite damage to the wrist, probably broken but we won’t know for sure until we got x-rays.” He took the other hand from Steve. “Not as much damage to this one, but again, x-rays.”

“Bruce, light of my life, my muse, I’m okay. I don’t need to go to medical,” at this he glared at Steve, “I just need to sleep it off and I’ll be so new I’ll be shiny.” He placed his left hand on the floor as he attempted to get back on his feet. He flailed and landed on his side again. “Fuck this.” Realizing how useless he was at the moment, he continued to glare at Steve as if that’ll solve all his problems.

“Come on, let me help.” Steve wrapped one arm around Tony’s middle and stretched one useless arm over his own shoulders. “Don’t worry, Tony, there’s a nice, comfy bed at SHIELD medical with your name on it.”

Tony groaned.

 

* * *

 

As Bruce had predicted, Tony’s left wrist was broken, with several smaller fractures in the bones of his fingers and palms. His right wasn’t broken but there was damage to the tendons and muscles. Soon after Tony was admitted to medical and the X-rays confirmed the damage, he was admitted into surgery.

Which really didn’t help with Steve’s nerves.

“It’s just open reduction,” Bruce tried to assure him. “They’re repositioning the bones so they’ll heal better. That’s all.”

After that Steve had to deal with an irate Tony coming out of anesthesia and before the pain meds kicked in.

“This is wholly unnecessary,” Tony said, glaring at the splints his hands were in. “I’ve had broken wrists before. And I was able to work just fine. But you’re telling me I have to wait at least six weeks?”

“Takes up to a year to fully heal,” Bruce added.

Clint leaned in to stare at Tony’s hands. “Wow, they look so grody. Man they’re gonna be so swollen, they’re gonna look like Mickey Mouse gloves.”

“Fuck off, Barton.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Nat said. “You could’ve broken your spine and been lying here paralyzed and unable to talk.” She paused. “Actually that doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Seriously?” Tony sank further into his cot, staring at the ceiling. “You guys are supposed to be on my side.”

“You’ll live.” Nat patted his cheek and Tony flinched away from her. “C’mon, Clint, those Lost reruns are on tonight. Thor, you have anything you’d like to say?”

Thor stood up and towered over everyone else in the room. “You have fought gloriously today in battle, Man of Iron. I anticipate for you a swift recovery.”

Once those three have left, Bruce muttered something about ‘soft tissue injuries’ and disappeared, leaving Tony and Steve alone in the room. This wasn’t what Steve was hoping for when he was thinking of getting Tony alone after the mission.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. “So… did JARVIS find anything about Bucky in those files?”

Tony shrugged. “Nothing we don’t already know.”

“The team and I destroyed the weapons before we left.”

“Good.”

Steve hesitated when he saw Tony was staring at the opposite wall. Looks like Project Sweep Tony Off His Feet was postponed once again.

“You did good today. In the mission. It’s not your fault for getting hurt.”

“I know.”

“And you actually listened to orders this time.”

Tony snorted. “I don’t disobey you for funsies, Cap. I just find better, quicker ways of ending a mission.”

“I know. I just wish you wouldn’t put yourself into needless danger.”

“Are we really going to start fighting about this now?”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, let’s take the day off.”

Instead of the small smile Steve expected, Tony turned his whole body over to face away from him. But Steve didn’t mind much. Tony was safe now. Steve stayed as Tony’s breathing became slower and refused to move the rest of the night despite the nurses’ objections.

 

* * *

 

When Tony left medical the splints were turned into casts and his scowls were deeper than ever. Clint mocked him ruthlessly until Tony threatened to sic the Hulk on him the next time Bruce turned.

Tony slipped away from Steve’s view a few hours after they arrived at home and Steve knew where to find him. A hiding spot was only useful if nobody knew where it was after all.

“This is bullshit,” Tony declared when Steve entered the workshop. He was sitting at a workbench, glaring at a piece of armor that Dummy was trying to work on. Emphasis on trying. “My hands are clumsier than his.” He gestured at Dummy and the bot let out a miserable sounding beep.

“You tried, didn’t you?” Steve folded his arms across his chest in a pose he knew looked authoritative.

Tony gave him a withering look. “You really expect me to do nothing for six weeks? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my hands are everything to me.”

“Tony, Bruce said you can cause permanent damage if you don’t let them heal properly. Isn’t six weeks better than a lifetime?”

Tony grumbled. “I’m head of R&D you know. I can’t just stop working.”

“Can’t you make the schematics and have someone else build it?”

“Then what’s the point?”

Before Steve can reply, Tony glared and muttered, “Don’t bother,” before turning his back on him again.

Steve sighed and took his usual seat on the couch, taking out his sketchbook and charcoal. Tony didn’t acknowledge him for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

A few days later it was Movie Night and the Avengers ordered in from their favorite Chinese place. They gathered in the communal TV room to watch the Indiana Jones movies.

Twenty minutes in Tony walked in, fashionably late as always. Ignoring curious glances, he grabbed one takeout box and a set of chopsticks and sat on the sofa next to Steve. And of course he had trouble getting the chopsticks open. He threw the utensils on the table before grabbing a fork. And despite having four fingers on his right hand not bound by the cast he still had trouble gripping the fork.

Steve leaned over to whisper, “Need any help?”

Tony didn’t reply. He managed to grip the fork enough, but when he reached for the food his grip fumbled and the fork fell to floor. He pushed the takeout box into Steve’s hands and stormed out of the room.

A short silence fell in the room before Clint broke it. “He must really be frustrated that he can’t masturbate anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Doombots were released in Manhattan once again when Steve found himself facing an increasingly angry Tony Stark.

“Please,” Tony said. “I can just cut off the casts and put new ones after!”

“Uh-uh,” Bruce interjected, walking over to stand next to Steve. “You’ll still be flexing your wrist if you pilot the suit.”

“A few hours isn’t that bad, I’ll be fine.”

“Tony,” Steve said, “We can handle it without you, don’t worry. If we really need Iron Man’s help, then have JARVIS pilot the suit. But I won’t let you get yourself injured intentionally.”

Tony’s expression darkened. “Fine, go have fun with your super-secret boy band. I don’t care.” And he stormed off like he was doing so often these days.

“You should talk to him,” Bruce said. “He’s taking things the wrong way. And he’s even more restless than I thought he would be.”

Steve nodded.

After the doombots, when Steve tried to enter the workshop, the place was on lockdown.

 

* * *

 

It was approximately four days of Tony locked in his workshop and two weeks of Tony’s hands in casts, and Steve was entirely sick of it all. Instead of trying to plead with JARVIS like he had the other times, he marched in with his shield and broke the glass partition that was darkened so not even Steve could look inside.

“Tony, we gotta talk,” Steve announced. Then blinked when he saw no sign of him. “Tony?”

“He’s lying on the floor behind the workbench,” came JARVIS’ long-suffering voice.

Steve peered over the table to see Tony lounging against it with a bottle of scotch in his lap. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Tony said. He held the bottle carefully between his two hands and lifted it for a long, careful drink. When he finished, he added, “It’s the only thing I can actually do.”

Steve settled down on the floor across from him. He gave him an assessing look. “Tony, I know it must be awful for you. Hell, I’d probably be angrier than you are—”

“Nope.” Tony popped the ‘p.’ “You wouldn’t. Wanna know why? Because you’re supersoldier. Supersoldiers don’t deal with this bullshit. I’m just human.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“For me it is.” Tony’s eyes narrowed, trying to focus his gaze directly on Steve and failing. He settled the bottle carefully down before flopping onto his back. “Just imagine what I can get done if I was. Maybe How—” He shut up and did his best to ignore Steve.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Not nearly enough if we’re talking.”

“Tony.”

“Steve.”

“Listen.” He made a motion as if to reach for Tony’s hand but restrained himself. Tony glared. “I know I’ve been babying ever since you got injured, and you have every right to be frustrated with me. But I just don’t want you to get more hurt. I want you to take care of yourself. And you never do, because you never realize—” Steve paused and glanced at Tony, to see if anything was registering. But Tony had an unreadable look on his face like when he was purposefully being evasive. “Never mind.”

He grabbed the near empty bottle and took it over to a cabinet where the liquor stock was kept. When his back turned, he heard a soft murmur that would have been inaudible if not for the serum.

“I know I must be ugly to look at now.”

What? “What?” Steve said out loud. He turned back to see Tony had his eyes closed, chin tipped up towards the ceiling. “Tony, I heard that. Don’t act like you said nothing.”

Wordlessly, Tony held his hands straight up. Steve stared incredulously at him.

He said, “Look at them.”

Steve did. At those powerful hands that have taken such abuse. From what he could see peeking out from under the casts, they were swollen and still bruised a light yellow color. They were stiff and the four fingers uncovered by casts looked tired by the way they limped. He wanted to grasp them in his hands and rub them and kiss them better.

“Yes?”

“You used to love them.” Steve stared at Tony in shock, but Tony wasn’t looking at him. Or rather he was refusing to look at him. “I noticed, y’know. In the shop. Or when we’re relaxing in the kitchen. You stare at them all the time. And it really confused me, but, I don’t know, you liked them so…” He shrugged. “And now they’re ruined.”

“Tony… they’re not ruined. They just need to heal.”

Tony shook his head.

“And it’s not past tense. I still love them.” Steve moved closer to reach out and take the right one, the one with the exposed fingers, and cradled it. “I guess I was being really unsubtle, huh? How long did you know?”

Tony was too busy staring at Steve’s hands and didn’t answer until Steve repeated the question. “Uh… I don’t know. A week or so after you started hanging out here… Why do you like them?”

Steve smiled. “Because they’re you. They helped you create the suit and escape from captivity. ‘Cause they help you every day in your genius. ‘Cause they’re so beautiful and elegant.”

“Huh,” Tony said intelligently.

Steve was about to say more, but saw Tony’s eyes were blinking often and slowly, as if trying to hold out on sleep as long as he could. “I think we should continue this conversation when you’re sober.”

“Nuh, I like this convo-sa-shun.”

“And you’ll like it even more when you can actually remember it.”

“I’ll remember it!” Tony protested as Steve helped him to his feet.

“Of course you will. And when you do, I’ll tell you all about what I think about these hands.” Steve ducked his head to press a kiss to each of the four visible fingertips. Tony gaped at him. “Come on, time for bed.”

He steered Tony towards the couch where Steve would usually sit and draw, and forced him to lie back and get settled. Tony drifted off to sleep soon enough, snoring softly. Steve smiled and took his sketchbook from a side drawer, flipping it open to a fresh page.

 

* * *

 

The next morning when Tony woke up hungover, he grumbled and muttered lots of nonsensical things that Steve was fairly certain were gibberish. He nodded dazedly at Steve, who was still sitting in the chair next to the couch, and moved towards the elevators to get to his room. And later Tony showed up to the kitchen with sunglasses on, still muttering and glaring at Clint, who was threatening to consume the rest of the coffee just to fuck with Stark. Tony finished his breakfast, flashed a quiet grin in Steve’s direction, and returned to the workshop.

Steve deflated. He had been waiting with bated breath all morning but it seemed Tony really did forget about their talk last night.

Clint hummed at him before stealing the last carton of ice cream from the fridge.

It was still early though. Tony wasn’t fully awake until he got at least two cups of coffee in him. And he was hungover. A few more hours.

It was about four in the afternoon when Steve realized that it didn’t look like Tony was going to address last night any time soon.

Okay, that was fine. Sure, Steve was disappointed. But this was his chance, the chance he was waiting for. It did take more than two weeks, but shit happens. All right, now then.

Steve looked up from his sketchbook. He had been down here in the past hour or so, waiting patiently for the conversation that never came. Tony was talking to JARVIS, verbally describing additions to the holographic schematics in front of him. Steve took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to sit next to Tony on the other stool. It took a few minutes, but Tony became aware of his presence and turned towards him.

“Yeah, Steve?”

“Do you remember what we talked about last night?” There. That was a good way to ease into the topic.

Tony had a blank look on his face. “Um… I said something really embarrassing, didn’t I?”

“Well—”

“JARVIS?”

The AI said, “You told Captain Rogers, ‘I know I must be ugly to look at now,’ in reference to your hands being injured.”

Tony blanched. “Well, fuck me.”

“Tony, listen to me. Do you know what I said?”

“I kinda don’t wanna know, oh god, strike me down now…”

“Tony. I said that I love your hands.” He caressed the left hand before pulling back. “Apparently I was more obvious than I thought I was, because you’ve noticed me staring before.” Tony was giving a wide-eyed, terrified look, like he was a rabbit waiting for its demise. “I had been planning on telling you the day we had our last HYDRA mission. And I was going to tell you after, but it didn’t seem like the right time and I didn’t want to stress you out even more.”

“Tell me what?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“I like you,” Steve said somewhat helplessly. “I’ve liked you for a while now. As in, I want to take you out to dinner. As a date.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a long time. He stared at Steve, his mouth opening and closing like a fish would. At last he said, “W-with me?”

“Yes.”

“But—but I’m an asshole.”

“No, you’re not.” Steve shrugged. “But you do know exactly what to say to piss people off.”

“Exactly. And I have no filter. No tact. I’m someone you don’t want to be seen out in public with unless you _had_ _to_.”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Well, of course, but—”

“Then it’s settled.” Steve smiled brightly while Tony rolled his eyes.

“You’re going to regret this, Rogers.”

“I don’t think so, Stark.”

 

* * *

 

Their first date went well. So did their second. And third, and fourth. When they had their first date, Steve took Tony to a small burger place he frequented often, where he knew the owners and patrons won’t pay much mind to the two Avengers. Besides knowing cheeseburgers to be Tony’s favorite food, Steve figured it would be an easy food for Tony to hold with his injured hands. Tony seemed to almost forget about his hands; he was too busy telling Steve lame chemistry jokes to remember.

Their second was watching really bad, cheaply made sci-fi movies, because Steve had not yet been exposed to that horror of this time. Their popcorn got spilled everywhere and Steve had wrestled Tony into the couch in the middle of a tickling war. They stopped, realized how close they were, and ended up making out and ignoring the movie completely.

Their third was their attempt at baking a cake together. Tony didn’t help at all and instead got covered in flour while Steve did all the work. Steve slapped him in the ass as punishment. Tony didn’t look much chastised.

Their fourth was Tony modeling for Steve’s sketches, which very nearly turned into a reenactment of that one scene in Titanic. (They got interrupted by a red-faced Bruce who had accidentally walked in. Then again the two should know better than to get frisky on the communal floor.)

There was no fifth. In fact, instead of a fifth, in defiance of a fifth date, Tony sauntered into the kitchen and announced, “Steve, you need to take me to your bed. Now.”

Clint was out of there so fast, he didn’t even bother to make a sarcastic remark like he would usually. Bruce tugged a considering Thor away and Natasha barely bat an eye. It was only Steve and Tony left.

Steve said, “You know we were eating lunch, right?”

“Steve. We’ve already been on four dates already. Usually I put out _before_ the first date. All right, you’re giving me a dangerous case of blue balls, I might be hospitalized, you need to fuck me before that happens.” Tony moved closer and fluttered his long eyelashes. “Save me, Captain.”

“You’re injured.”

Tony threw his hands in the air. “Seriously? That’s why you won’t have sex with me?”

“Well, yes. Otherwise we would be in the bedroom right now.” Tony did a double take. Steve had a very good poker face.

“It’s just my hands, it’s not like my whole body is in pain.”

Steve sighed. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, Tony, if I get too into it and not realize what I’m doing.”

“…it’s actually really hot the fact that that’s a legitimate concern.”

“Tony.” Steve even directed one of his signature ‘I am Captain America and I am disapproving of this’ looks at him.

“I would tell you if it’s hurting.”

“Would you really?”

No. No, he would not, and Tony knew that. “We could just do like a, you know, like an appetizer.”

“An appetizer?”

“Yeah, like I can suck you off.” He gave him a salacious grin. “Bet you’d like that.”

“I don’t know, Tony, but if I’m going to have you, I’d want the full course.” Steve moved closer, inclining his head towards Tony, with a mischievous look in his eyes. “If we start, I won’t be able to stop myself from having you.”

Tony was gaping at him. “Uh—”

“Imagine, having everything all at once, where I can take you apart, slowly, until all you can think about is how good I’m making you feel. You’d be so lost in the pleasure you’d forget your own name.”

Tony had stepped forward, his mouth only a few inches away, his pupils blown wide. He licked his lips. “Yes—”

“Good, it’s settled,” Steve said brightly, pecking Tony on his lips before stepping back towards his meal. “We have leftovers from curry last night, you want some?”

Tony was still standing there, dumbfounded, before glaring at Steve. “That’s not fair.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll feed you,” Steve said, lifting his fork and giving him his most innocent look.

Tony did his best to let his displeasure be known, but he soon relented with food and smooches.

 

* * *

 

They did get that fifth date. And a sixth, a seventh. And honestly, it was driving Steve crazy, having to force himself to pull back every time their kisses became too urgent, too purposeful. Tony would paw at Steve’s crotch, his hands useless, and it would have been funny if it wasn’t so frustrating. Steve would be half-attempted to just agree with Tony’s proposal of an “appetizer.” But the fact was he had been fantasizing about their first time for so long, he refused to let it be some quickie. That would be later.

Tony’s hands lost their swelling and recovered to the point that the casts got switched out for splints. And whenever they were lounging together, watching TV, or sitting next to each other eating, Steve would take one or both of Tony’s hands into his lap. He would kiss them, feel along their sides, caress those four naked fingers, or simply hold them. Tony never complained, but he always got this sort of dazed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend why Steve acted so enamored.

The day came when Bruce summoned Tony into his lab and Steve tagged along. Tony was waiting impatiently, his leg bouncing, while Bruce took off one splint and turned the wrist carefully. “It’s stiff,” Bruce commented. “You’re going to need to do daily stretches with your hands. I’m sure JARVIS can find instructional videos.” He pulled gently at the fingers, massaging the muscles as he went.

Tony asked, “So no more splints?”

“No, I’ve believed the bone to be fully healed now.” When Tony looked ready to escape the room, Bruce added, “Of course, it couldn’t hurt to take more X-rays to make sure everything is in place.”

“Bruce, I swear to god—”

“Calm down, let me just finish examining them.”

It was another fifteen minutes as Bruce looked over every single bone and muscle of each hand. As Bruce finally sighed and nodded, Tony launched himself out of his seat and grabbed Steve to drag him away. Steve managed to thank the doctor before Tony slammed the door of the lab.

“Seriously,” Tony said as he pushed Steve into the elevator and shove up against the wall. The elevator began to move. “You made me wait a whole month, you fucker.”

“Yes.” And Steve leaned down to give him a sweet kiss. Then he took his hands and placed a kiss on each palm. “I did.”

Tony wound a hand into Steve’s hair to pull him back down to his mouth. The elevator doors opened to the penthouse and they stumbled out, never letting go of each other. Steve cupped Tony’s ass with both hands and pulled him even closer, grinding their lower bodies together. Tony groaned into his lips and walked backwards in direction of his bedroom, taking Steve with him.

“You’re driving me insane,” Tony gasped.

“That’s the plan.” Steve pushed Tony onto the bed, hovering over him. “Do have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? How I’ve fantasized about this?” Then he hesitated. “Are you sure your hands are all right?”

“Jesus, Steve, we got the doctor’s seal of approval!”

“Just making sure,” he muttered. He unzipped his jeans one-handed and pulled out his already hard cock. He took one of Tony’s hands—gently, because Tony never had a good track record of being honest with his injuries—and guided it to wrap around him. He looked away from Tony’s eyes and down at the visual of that beautiful hand curling its long fingers around his thickness. Tony stroked loosely, his thumb rubbing against the vein on the underside.

“Wow,” Tony said breathlessly. “You really like that, huh?”

Instead of replying, Steve gripped the back of Tony’s head as he kissed him passionately. He let go to look back down again, resting his forehead against Tony’s. Steve moved carefully in the lax grip, groaning when Tony pressed against the slit. The sensations were building, and Steve knew if he didn’t hurry this along, this would be over before it properly started.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Steve said as he leaned away, working on his own clothing. Tony didn’t respond; he took his shirt off and threw it somewhere on the ground, and struggled with his jeans. Once Steve was fully divested of clothes, he grabbed the ends of Tony’s pant legs and pulled, nearly dragging Tony along with it.

Tony tried to latch himself onto Steve again, but Steve pushed him back down on the bed, his eyes roaming over the bare flesh. The arc reactor was gone, leaving a mess of scar tissue behind. Steve’s hand pressed upward on Tony’s chest, reaching to his neck and curling around, pulling him up for another kiss.

When they pulled apart to breathe, Tony said, “I want you to fuck me. Like right now.” He nipped at Steve’s full bottom lip.

Steve nodded dumbly, wondering if this wasn’t just a dream. But Tony was hot underneath him, writhing against him, pressing his length against Steve’s, and Steve shivered.

He leaned over to the nightstand to grab the lubricant and slicked up his fingers. Tony kept whining, trying to urge Steve to hurry, to stop teasing, you cock tease. A single finger plunged into his entrance shut him up pretty quick.

The silence only lasted about a minute and Tony started to mutter, telling Steve to hurry up, he’s done this before, he’s not some fragile thing.

“I need your cock,” Tony said thickly, gasping when Steve scissored two fingers inside of him. Steve paused, moaning quietly at the thought, and Tony rocked against the fingers, trying to get them deeper.

Steve snapped out of his daze and steadied Tony’s hips, keeping him still. “Just a little more.”

“Oh fuck, cause of death: fingered by Captain America.”

“Shush.” But Steve couldn’t help but grin, adding another finger. It was a tight fit, the muscles surrounding his digits were relaxing incrementally. He pushed them deeper and found what he was looking for, touching Tony’s prostate.

Tony arched up, gasping. “I think I’m good—no, really, Steve, it’s enough.”

Steve kissed him partially to quiet him. He took his fingers out and coated himself with more slick. He wound one arm under Tony’s thigh to keep him spread open, and pressed the head of his dick against the entrance. Tony exhaled carefully and Steve pushed inside.

Fuck, he was so tight. Steve rocked slowly into him, rubbing comforting circles into Tony’s hipbones with his thumbs. Tony’s body relented and Steve sunk deeper in.

“Any day, old man,” Tony mumbled, bracing his hands on Steve’s ribcage.

Steve leaned over to kiss his neck and jerked his hips, rubbing fully against that spot inside. Tony hissed and gasped once Steve began to thrust long, hard strokes. Tony twisted his head to the side, eyes shut, letting out soft groans with every thrust. And this was perfect, Steve thought. Seeing Tony like this, face flushed, his sweaty hair sticking up, his mouth formed in a little ‘o.’ Completely open and vulnerable. Only for Steve.

Tony keened, his eyes opening and focusing hazily on Steve. “Steve, babe, I’m close, I’m—”

Steve wrapped one hand around Tony’s length and rubbed, pumping his hips faster. It didn’t take long; Tony had been on teetering on the edge. Tony moaned and stiffened, his come splattering over Steve’s fist. Tony clenched around Steve, and Steve went right over the edge after him.

Steve pulled out, wringing a tired moan from Tony, before laying down on the bed. “So how was that?” Steve asked, wiping his hand absentmindedly on the sheets. (Which will be a bitch to clean up later, but Steve didn’t care about that now.)

“Eh,” Tony said, still trying to catch his breath. “I’ll give you a 7.5 for technique, 8.1 for effort.”

“You cheeky little—” Tony grinned when Steve laughed. Steve rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, giving him a satisfied smile. “I love you.”

Tony’s grin softened. “I love you too.”

“And are your hands really fine?” Steve curled his hand around Tony’s wrist.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Good.” He took the hand, twining their fingers together, thumb against wrist, and felt Tony’s pulse against his.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the smut was passable! Regardless, thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!
> 
> Follow me on [my tumblr](http://souldiertotheend.tumblr.com) where we can cry about both of these two fictional grown men.


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